


you're killing me sweetly with love

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-10
Updated: 2010-03-10
Packaged: 2019-01-19 23:02:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12420078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Love wasn't always easy and it wasn't set it stone, but it was the closest thing to magic.





	you're killing me sweetly with love

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

**Title:** you're killing me sweetly with love

**Summary:** He loves her the the times he never said. Lucy/Lorcan ficlet.

**Disclaimer:** Jo's characters, Sara Bareilles for the title, Panic! At the Disco for the verse(s), and Dashboard Confessional and Paramore for two phrases hidden in the text (can you find them?).

**A/N:** Well, I picked this quote (the summary) with the intention of LJ angst. So, of _course_ it's Lucy/Lorcan angst/fluff. The tense change at the end was on purpose, and I stole the reason from John Green. This is for FTR's Amy! (Sorry that it isn't what you asked for. I apologise.) I 333 you; you're such a great friend, and, you know, I could use more sleep.

—

Lucy wasn't the type of girl who fell for guys easily. She choose everyone of her crushes carefully, rating their boyfriend potential, and their attributes and vices. She looked for the bad parts of them, trying to see if their negatives outweighed their positives. And when she _did_ fall for a boy, she fell hard. _Really_ hard. She wasn't that girl who became obsessed with her love interests, though—she might have fancied them, but she didn't know everything about them. Just their schedule and some habits and whether they got a haircut recently or not. The problem was, though, no one ever wanted to date Lucy Weasley. She was the resident Ice Queen of Ravenclaw, and she had the limpiest, brown hair imaginable. She didn't wear make-up, either: she was allergic to most of it, and didn't want to risk an unnecessary trip to the dreaded Hospital Wing with Madame Pomprey (who had always creeped her out). No one had ever given Lucy flowers, or candy, or serenade her. They didn't write her love poems or tell her she was beautiful. Boys did those kind of things for Molly—beautiful Molly, nice, kind, and good Molly. Head Girl Molly. Molly got the Head position and new things and all the boys Lucy had ever fallen for, and Lucy was left in the background: just a lonely girl wanting to be loved, watching her sister have every dream she had ever dreamed for herself, and longed.

Sometimes, Lucy thought she got all the bad traits—she was too hard headed, a bit gullible, and was that girl you never talked to in class even though you had known her since you were eleven, and didn't want to know anything about save her status and her surname. Sometimes Lucy thought she had none of the luck Molly seemed to possess.

But that's when she saw him again. She met him and she thought maybe she was a bit lucky after all.

—

He was two years above her in Ravenclaw, too, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She had forgotten about him long ago when she had signed up for the _Charms Weekly_. She was a depressed, wannabe freelancer, desperate for a job, desperate to escape the hellhole she called home. She was tired of her family and wanted to make it, wanted something _other_ than the constant nagging from her parents for her to be perfect. "Lucy, why aren't you more like your sister?" "Lucy, why aren't you dating some great guy like John, Molly's fiance?" _Molly, Molly, Molly._ She was sick and tried and fed up, so much so that she just upped and moved right after graduation to be on her own.

It was her first day on the job—she'd been assigned the stupid, fluff pieces newbies always got stuck with—when she literally ran into him. He had been walking down the hall, towards his cublicle when she did. Her papers had flew everywhere, and he had been nice enough to get down on the floor and help her pick every single paper up for her, and when she was done, she looked up at him. Her heart sped up and it might sound cliche, and somewhat overused, and the world might not have stopped turning around them, but it was magic and she fell for him.

He had smiled easily down at her, running his hand through his crazy-curly, blonde hair. "Lucy Weasley," he said. "Haven't seen you in ages! How are you? Working at _Charms_ , I can see?"

Lucy stared at him in confusion, slightly dazed, and taking in all his facial features, trying to place his familar, handsome face. His sea blue eyes, the hint of stubble on his chin—"What do you mean, 'ages'? I recall your face, but I don't remember your name. I'm sorry, ... ?"

"Lorcan Scamander." He grinned at his crush, a crush that hadn't quite ever disappeared. He ached to run his hand through her brown hair, hold her close to him and never let her go. He wanted to love her like Lysander loved Lily. "I was a Prefect when you were, remember? That Seventh Year who you used to patrol with on Fridays."

She gasped in recognition. "Oh! Lorcan!" Suddenly, she was hugging him tightly. "I used to talk to you for hours." She paused, pulling herself away from him slightly. "Why didn't you ever write? You promised you'd write me!"

Still holding tightly to Lucy's waist, he burried his nose into her hair. "No, you got it mixed up. _You_ were supposed to call _me. I_ waited for you to write, and I thought, maybe, you didn't miss me like I missed you." _I missed you so much, I dreamed of you every night, and hoped for a letter to arrive every morning._

"Then we have a lot of catching up to-do, don't we?" She smiled up at him and the sides of his mouth curved up, too. She let go of him, and he her, sadly. Picking up her pile of papers again: "Do you want me to meet you for lunch? I have a lot to-do, but they promised me an hour break around one-ish. Sound good?" He nodded and hugged her again fleetingly, savouring the smell of her hair.

"I'll be seeing you."

—

Their friendship bloosomed as the months flew past; they spent lunches together ... and breakfasts, and dinners. They celebrated promotions with one another. Lucy knew she had liked him from the start: he was witting and fun and he balanced out her traits. They were together for hours, doing different crazy things, some even Muggles were afraid of, like bungee jumping. They were only dog-eared pages in their relationship, though, and Lucy was anxious to skip a few chapters ahead. But as the days flew by, as they lived like it was the latest attraction, Lorcan felt like he explod with stress.

Lorcan had been planning for ages to tell her. Tell her how he felt, how she made him feel: like he was complete, like he never needed anyone else just to breathe. He loves her and he's sure she doesn't know. He loves her when she's thoughtful, when she just lies on the couch, staring up at the ceiling with her feet in his lap, and him reading to her half-heartedley. Sometimes, she'll switch directions and lie her head in his lap instead and fall asleep. It's in those moments when Lorcan will just smooth his best friend's hair and hope. He's pretty optimistic for a pessimist, he's sure.

He'll wish that these little acts of adoration—patting her hair that's so glossy between his hands, reading her her book—will be enough for her to love him back.

He loves her when she's stressed. She will come home from work at the office to his flat—which she practically lives in, anyway; Lorcan tells her to sell her flat, but she's too headstrong sometimes—, and dumps her briefcase on the table. She'll see him watching her from the couch or the chair, and, sometimes, she'll just sit in his lap and he will hold her and she'll cry and complain about her family who were still telling her to get a better job and marry and just be plain _better_ , when she's already giving her one hundred and ten percent to please them. He'll just hold her and he'll live for these moments where he can just have her so _close._ He loves her and he wishes she could see it.

He has always loved her—from the moment she opened the door to the Prefect's comparment years ago, looking a little lost next to her sister. His heart had quickened in speed and he had attempted to make her pay attention to him. She had been a Fifth Year and he had been the unattainable Seventh Year that was secretly in love with her all those times she would cry to him at night, complaining about her love life. He had let her kiss him to practice, and had kissed her back with so much longing that he was surprised she didn't see it then: he loves her and he still does. He still tells bad jokes to hear her giggle, still lets her cry on his shoulder.

And she loves him.

She just doesn't have the heart to tell him and be let down again. She fell so _hard_ for him and doesn't want her heart broken. She knows he isn't just using her for her sister, but she knows everything is just platonic. Isn't it?

She loves him and he loves her and, sometimes, that's all you need. Sometimes it isn't. Because even though loving is hard, it's the closest thing to magic.

—

_So he said, "Would it be all right_   
_If we just sat and talked for a little while?_   
_If in exchange for your time,_   
_I give you this smile?"_

_So she said, "That's okay,_   
_As long as you can make a promise_   
_Not to break my little heart_   
_Or leave me all alone in the summer."_


End file.
